


Falling Stars Among the Snow

by rubylily



Category: Octopath Traveler (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:13:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24329341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rubylily/pseuds/rubylily
Summary: Traveling with Primrose, Ophilia returns to the village of her birth.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 16
Collections: Fandom 5K 2020





	Falling Stars Among the Snow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [puppylove7](https://archiveofourown.org/users/puppylove7/gifts).



"Ophilia, dear, you'll be safe here, and your Mama and Papa will be back soon, we promise."

As the closet door closed, Ophilia saw the tears running down her mother's cheeks, but she was left in darkness before she could say anything more. Her small body shivering, she pulled sheets and clothes over herself, trying to ignore the sounds of screams and clashing of weapons outside. She didn't understand what was happening. Just last week she and her parents had celebrated her fifth birthday, and this morning had been the same as ever, with her mother and father preparing a warm breakfast. But then they had seen strangers wearing armor and carrying weapons outside the window, and her father had grabbed a nearby axe while her mother had hidden her in this closet.

She sniffled. She wanted to cry, scream, but her mother had told her not to make a sound. Fear gripped her heart, and she pulled the sheets tighter around herself. Her father, before he left the house with that axe, had told her she would be safe and that there was nothing to fear. But there had been something strange about his smile, something that had reminded her of tears.

Ophilia clasped her trembling hands together. Her parents often told her that as long as the Sacred Flame burned, the twelve gods would watch over them, and all she could do now was pray, pray for her mother and father and everyone else in the village too.

But the screams outside still didn't stop.

Time passed, more than any child could reasonably be expected to endure, and still Ophilia remained silent and hidden. She had to, she told herself, or else her parents wouldn't be able to find her. If she was a good girl, her parents would return to her and everything would be fine. Everything would go back to normal. Thus she prayed with all of her small being.

She heard the front door swing open, and she nearly cried out in joy, imagining her parents' smiling faces, but there were too many footsteps to only be her parents. As the heavy footsteps hit the wooden floorboards, she clamped her hands over her mouth, and unfamiliar voices filled her ears.

"This place's cleaned out too," said a man with a deep voice. "Isn't there anything worthwhile in this godsforsaken village…?"

"Our lord won't be happy," said a second man, and he sounded younger than the first. A pause, and then something heavy hit the ground and shattered. "Shit!"

"Hey, be careful!" the older man barked. "There still might be food or something valuable around here!"

"Hard to imagine anything growing in this barren place…" grumbled a third man.

As unfamiliar voices and the sounds of strangers tearing apart the house flew all around her, Ophilia tried to make herself as small as possible underneath all the sheets, and she silently prayed that those men wouldn't notice this tiny closet and instead leave soon. However, heavy footsteps instead came closer to the closest where she was hidden, and a coppery scent filled her nose. The doorknob turned, and her blood ran cold. The door began to open, and she feared her racing heartbeat could be heard by all. She flattened herself on the floor as much as she could, not daring to move a muscle, and…

"That's enough," the first man called out. "This was a waste of time."

The closet door shut, and countless heavy footsteps scrambled outside, and only when absolute silence surrounded her did she let out a breath, but she remained still as death lest those men return and discover her.

Even more time passed, and she shivered violently. Those strangers had left the front door open, so cold winter air now filled the house, and all those sheets that hid her did little to keep her warm. She curled tighter into a ball, wrapping her arms around herself, and she waited. Waited for when her parents would return and find her and tell her everything would be all right. Her mother and father had promised, after all. As she waited, she continued to pray to the Sacred Flame and any of the twelve gods that would listen.

Eventually exhaustion came over her, and she fell asleep, but the nightmares that awaited her were anything but restful. The Sacred Flame grew dark as strangers destroyed her house and killed her parents, and the only one to hear her prayers was the fallen god Galdera as he laughed and mocked her, feasting on the souls of her parents.

Ophilia awoke screaming, and she panicked in the darkness before she remembered where she was. She grew silent, and tears stung at her eyes. She was still alone. Her parents hadn't found her. She was cold and hungry and thirsty. How much longer would she have to wait? But maybe her parents were lost and waiting for their daughter to find them.

"I'm sorry, Mama," she whispered as she freed herself of the sheets. She slowly pushed open the door but saw no one, so carefully she emerged from the closet. Drawers and dishes were scattered everywhere, and bloody footprints covered the floor. Steeling herself, she called out, "Mama? Papa?"

When no answer came, she grabbed her small cloak and fastened it around herself, just like her mother had taught her. She peered around the doorframe, and when she saw no signs of the strangers, she pushed herself outside, but she wasn't prepared for what awaited her.

Unmoving bodies littered the streets, and the snow was more red than white. That copper scent again filled her nose, and she wanted to vomit. She recognized many of the figures on the ground, such as that nice baker who always gave her sweets and the blacksmith who had helped her father repair the fence and the neighbor's daughter who always gave her flowers, but none moved or spoke to her, no matter how hard she cried.

She wandered the village in a daze, her hands and boots covered in blood, and cold tears rolled down her cheeks. This was a nightmare, she told herself, it had to be. That woman over there had a large gash in her back, and that man's face was crushed, and that child was impaled through the chest. Grotesque scenes surrounded her, but she was too tired to scream or cry anymore. She just hoped she would wake soon.

Near the edge of the village, she spotted a group of strangers in white, and she ducked behind a snow mound. None of the strangers carried weapons other than wooden staves, and those white robes almost looked familiar…

One man knelt beside a corpse, and he had brown hair and appeared about the same age as Ophilia's father. "We were too late…" he said, sorrow crossing his gentle features.

An older woman touched his shoulder, and she wore the same white robes as he did. "There may be survivors," she said. "We must look thoroughly."

Ophilia tried to lean forward, wanting to hear more, but she slipped and landed hard on the frozen ground. Suddenly all eyes were on her, and she was too scared to scream, too scared to even flee.

"She's still alive…!" one of the younger members of the group exclaimed.

The gentle-faced man carefully stepped forward and held out his hand for Ophilia. "Hello there," he said with a faint smile. "My name is Josef, and I am an archbishop with the Church of the Sacred Flame. I know you have no reason to trust us, but I swear by the Sacred Flame and the first Flamebearer that we will do whatever we can for you."

Ophilia stared at the man's outstretched hand, and the other white-robed figures watched her. She tried to speak, but no words came. She was still dreaming, wasn't she? And when she awoke, she would be safe with her mother and father, and all would be happy. She could forget all this death and destruction and find her parents…

The man's smile grew warmer. "The Sacred Flame will guide you true, I promise."

Ophilia screamed, and she could no longer suppress her tears. She wasn't dreaming, all this ruin was real and she had lost everything…! As the weight of grief crushed her, she threw herself into Josef's arms and sobbed into his white robes, and he held her gently as her cries echoed throughout this frozen wasteland.

* * *

Lately Ophilia often awoke from her dreams with a sense of longing, or a yearning for days far too faded in the past to remember clearly. She rolled over onto her side, staring at Primrose sleeping in the bed opposite hers. They had stopped to rest at the inn of Northreach, one step in their journey toward the farthest reaches of the Frostlands. Since returning to Flamesgrace with her sister Lianna, Ophilia had felt a strange desire to visit the ruined home of her childhood, and after she had told Primrose of that desire, she had been surprised at the absolute joy that filled her when Primrose offered to accompany her.

With a deep breath, Ophilia lay on her back and stared at the unfamiliar ceiling. Truth be told, she couldn't understand why she suddenly wanted to return to the village of her birth. There was nothing waiting for her there, after all. Her birth parents had passed on and no one had lived there since the war. And yet that yearning only grew stronger, determined not to be ignored, and thus she pressed forward, with her dear friend Primrose by her side.

She shut her eyes tightly; if not for Primrose, would she had been able to bring herself to undertake this journey?

The sun soon rose, and Ophilia and Primrose gathered their supplies and left the cozy inn, ready to embark on a new day. They stood at the gates of Northreach, looking over an old, faded map the innkeeper had given them, and it held the names of villages that time had since forgotten, and it was clear this map had seen the hands of many a traveler.

"This is our destination, yes?" Primrose asked, pointing at a village near the top of the map.

"Yes, Winterhaven," Ophilia replied. "That is where I was born."

"Winterhaven, hm?" A slight smile came upon Primrose's beautiful lips. "A fitting name for a village in the Frostlands."

Once all the preparations were complete, the two women departed Northreach. In these regions of the Frostlands, villages grew scarcer and scarcer the farther north one traveled, and Winterhaven, their destination, was at the northernmost point of what could call the edge of the world. Few ever traveled this far north, and since that great war, the light of Orsterra rarely shined upon these forgotten regions.

After completing her pilgrimage and saving Lianna, Ophilia had begun to research that terrible war, starting with history books Cyrus had recommended from the library in Atlasdam. Winters in the region had grown harsher over the years, with harvests yielding less and less, and many began to head south in hopes of a better life. But one lord, desperate to maintain his waning power, took upon the mantel of a conqueror and attacked any village that his armies could pillage. Thus the dying villages perished in the flames of war, until the aging warlord himself fell.

Yet just reading words on a page hadn't been enough to quell Ophilia's restless spirit, and with each chapter she read, that desire to confront her past only grew stronger. Once, Josef and Lianna had offered to travel with her to Winterhaven, but Ophilia had declined, fearful of the memories that would awaken. But Primrose was different. Ophilia had worried that they would go their separate ways once their individual quests were finished, but instead Primrose had stayed with her, and her smiles were brighter, as if a great burden had been lifted from her shoulders, and Ophilia had never seen her so beautiful and radiant.

"I've never been this far north," Primrose said as she and Ophilia walked alongside a snow-covered river. "It's rather exciting, I must admit."

"Some scholars refer to these regions as 'the end of the world,'" Ophilia said, remembering the books she had read in preparation for this journey. "After all, little is known about the lands outside Orsterra."

"Tressa's sailor friends might know something, but it's rare for even merchants to sail northward." Primrose glanced at the cold waters of the river beside her and Ophilia. "It's much too cold, I believe."

A soft chuckle slipped from Ophilia's lips. "Are you still not used to the snow?"

Primrose smiled, that sweet, mysterious smile she often wore lately. "After the Sunlands, seeing so much snow is quite refreshing, cold as it is." She linked her arm with Ophilia's, drawing closer. "And since meeting you, I've realized how beautiful the snow can be."

"Lianna was the one to show me that, when I first came to Flamesgrace," Ophilia said softly. "I've lived in the Frostlands all my life, but I never realized how beautiful snow could until I met her, so I'm honored to share this beauty with you too."

They traveled for a little while longer, stopping to rest every so often and light a flame for warmth. Primrose spoke of her early travels in the Flatlands, Highlands, and Sunlands before she had reached Sunshade, sharing fascinating and sometimes unbelievable stories. Ophilia listened intently, and she sometimes shared with Primrose stories of her childhood with Lianna and Josef. From time to time a somber air would fall over the two of them, but it was almost kind of pleasant, Ophilia thought, and more and more she was grateful for Primrose's presence on this journey.

By sunset, Ophilia and Primrose reached their destination for the day: a small village called Whiteglow. Smaller than even Northreach or Stillsnow, it seemed a quiet little place, reminding Ophilia of the few memories she still had of Winterhaven. Few people were out and about, and Ophilia and Primrose headed toward the inn, where they intended to spend the night and plan the rest of their route.

"Don't often see travelers 'round here anymore," said the elderly innkeeper as Ophilia and Primrose paid for a room. Her face was weathered from age, but her eyes held a kind sparkle. "There used to be lots of travelers, right after the war, searching for whatever they could scavenge, but nowadays there ain't much left up north but ghosts and such."

"Thank you for the information," Ophilia replied with a bow of her head. "Northward toward Winterhaven is our destination."

"Winterhaven, huh? That's a name I haven't heard in a long time." The innkeeper let out a sigh, but her smile was warm. "I won't ask you two young ladies your reasons, but do be careful, you hear?"

Ophilia and Primrose nodded, and then headed for their room. It was a small room with only two beds, but Ophilia was always certain to give a prayer of thanks to the twelve gods for innkeepers. Primrose sat on the edge of a bed and stretched her legs, and Ophilia sat on the bed opposite hers.

"Beyond Whiteglow, there are only abandoned villages," Ophilia said as she again looked over their map. "It's a few days' travel from here to Winterhaven, and we must be careful of the snow and cold."

"It's fortunate we had H'aanit to teach us during our travels together," Primrose said with a wink.

A smile tugged at Ophilia's lips. "After we're finished here, it would be nice to visit H'aanit and the others, if you aren't tired of traveling with me."

Primrose grinned warmly. "I could never tire of traveling with you."

As evening rolled into night, Ophilia and Primrose shared a small, warm meal and then checked their supplies, ensuring they had enough to make it to Winterhaven and then back to Whiteglow. In the morning, they would purchase a few more necessities and then embark on the final stretch of their journey to Winterhaven.

Once their travel plans were set, Ophilia and Primrose settled into bed. Primrose fell asleep quickly, but Ophilia still felt too restless. In two or three days' time, she would reach her birthplace for the first time in fifteen years. Fifteen long years since she saw her birth parents and only fifteen short years with her adoptive father Josef. Perhaps it was the loss of her second father that had created this desire to return to the village of her birth. She had helped Lianna find closure, but they both still grieved for their lost father, taken away far too soon by Mattias' twisted actions. Ophilia shut her eyes; maybe she hoped to find closure on this journey, to understand this tragedy in a way she hadn't been able to as a child.

Thus with those thoughts racing through her mind, Ophilia eventually drifted into an uneasy sleep.

* * *

Once more Ophilia was a child of barely five winters, hidden in a small closet while screams echoed outside. Her parents were out there somewhere, and red blood stained the white snow that covered the frozen ground. Her parents' blood, her friends' blood, her neighbors' blood, and she shivered alone underneath dirty sheets, where no one would find her.

But heavy footsteps came closer, and the closet door was ripped open and the sheets torn away, and armed soldiers stared down at her. They tried to reach for her, but instead she bolted, rushing through them and outside the house into the bloodstained snow.

And she kept running, past the burning houses and the mangled corpses, both villager and soldier, that littered the streets. She cried and screamed, and the scent of blood filled her nose, but she didn't stop, not until she reached the edge of the world.

Yet no matter how far she ran, she couldn't escape the sight of all this death and destruction. There was no end to the corpses she ran past, and heavy footsteps chased after her. The snow was more red than white, and something grabbed her arm and she screamed—

"Ophilia?"

Her eyes shot open, and she saw Primrose sitting on the edge of her bed. Primrose laid a gentle hand on Ophilia's hair, and even in this darkness worry was clear in her beautiful eyes. "Primrose?" Ophilia forced out.

"Was it a nightmare?" Primrose asked.

A heavy sigh slipped from Ophilia's lips. "It has been a long time since I last dreamed of the past."

Primrose took Ophilia's hand between hers. "Those kinds of nightmares never go away," she said softly.

Ophilia let her fingers curl around Primrose's, and again she was grateful Primrose had chosen to accompany her, that she didn't have to face the past alone. The pain they shared was different, but they both knew the pain of losing beloved parents. "Thank you, Primrose," she said as she tried to smile.

"May you sleep well," Primrose said, leaning in closer to Ophilia. "We've an early day tomorrow, and I'm rather excited for it."

"As am I," Ophilia replied, and as she felt the comfort of Primrose's gentle fingers against her cheek, her racing heart began to calm.

* * *

The path to Winterhaven was worn from weather and disuse, and on the second day since leaving Whiteglow, the snowfall had increased, forcing Ophilia and Primrose to seek shelter. Fortunately, they found a small cave not far from the path, where they could wait out the snowstorm. They kept the entrance in sight so as not to become lost in an unfamiliar cave, and as they lit a fire, howling winds echoed outside.

Ophilia and Primrose sat close together, furs given to them by H'aanit draped around themselves. For a while they were silent, and slowly they began to speak of their families. Ophilia listened eagerly and intently, as Primrose rarely spoke of their parents.

"My mother passed away of illness when I was young, too young to remember," Primrose said, her eyes fixed on the fire before her and Ophilia. "My father said she was strong and enjoyed dancing, and there was always an air of sorrow about him whenever he spoke of her." She smiled ruefully. "I may not remember my mother, but it's clear how much my father loved her."

"Such love and devotion is truly beautiful," Ophilia said, laying her hand over Primrose's. "I am certain both your mother and father are proud of you."

Primrose's smile grew warmer as her fingers curled around Ophilia's. "Sometimes I wonder what it would've been like if I had a sibling, though. Whenever I see you and Lianna together, I can't help but feel a little envious."

A gentle laugh fell from Ophilia's lips. "Having a sister is a blessing for which I thank the twelve gods every day. In my darkest hour, when I first came to Flamesgrace, she helped me return to the light. If not for her and our father…"

As Ophilia fell silent, Primrose embraced her and pulled her closer, and the furs they shared were warm. Regrets still prickled at Ophilia's heart, that she had not realized Josef as her father until after his passing and that she hadn't been there for Lianna to share her grief, and still Lianna carried scars from Mattias' cruel words. Ophilia closed her eyes and listened to Primrose's heartbeat. But Lianna was beginning to smile again as she aided the knight Eliza, turning her grief into strength as they worked to put an end to Galdera's dark cult once and for all.

Ophilia rested her head against Primrose's shoulder. In some ways, Ophilia noticed, Primrose and Lianna were alike; both had lost their mothers at a young age and their fathers had been murdered, and now both sought to uncover the truth and ensure that similar tragedies would never be repeated, and both had been deceived by someone they had considered a friend. Such pain and grief could not be forgotten, and Ophilia wished to guide both Primrose and Lianna with the light of the Sacred Flame.

Time passed, and the snowstorm still raged outside. "We may have to spend the night inside this cave," Ophilia said as she and Primrose ate a warm soup of herbs and game meat.

"We're fortunate we found this shelter," Primrose replied, staring at the flurry of white outside. "But you would say the Sacred Flame guided us here, wouldn't you?"

Ophilia smiled. "The Sacred Flame will always guide us true."

"Spoken like a true cleric," Primrose said softly, and despite the cold winds outside, Ophilia felt quite warm with Primrose so close to her.

* * *

By afternoon of the third day since departing Whiteglow, Ophilia and Primrose reached their destination of Winterhaven. The snowstorm from the previous night had subsided, but the snowfall was still faint yet constant. The snowflakes were almost nostalgic in a way, as Ophilia's clearest memory of Winterhaven was a near-steady snowfall.

For a while neither spoke as they walked the white deserted paths, and Ophilia took the lead as Primrose followed closely. Years of snowfall had washed away the blood, and clerics had searched the village thoroughly to grant the bodies of the fallen proper burials, villager and soldier alike. A somber kind of silence lingered over the ruined buildings, and it was almost dreamlike, as Ophilia had seen this scenery in her nightmares more times than she could count.

Finally Primrose broke the fragile silence. "How long has it been?" she asked in a soft voice.

"Fifteen years," Ophilia answered, clasping her hands over her heart. She stopped in front of one particular ruined building, and she recognized the faded paint on the wooden sign. "This was a bakery. The owner's name was Klaudia, and she made the most delicious sweet buns."

A gentle smile came upon Primrose's lips, but otherwise said nothing.

As they explored the village, Ophilia continued to share her memories with Primrose. "The blacksmith was named Iris," she said as they passed an old forge, and upon passing a larger house she added, "This library was run by a bookbinder named Heinrich, and the clerics rescued as many books as they could." Other memories came to mind the more she and Primrose explored, and a smile began to tug at her lips. She'd worried about how much she had forgotten over the years, but the more she shared with Primrose, the more she remembered.

Soon they came to an old church, and Primrose touched Ophilia's arm. "Would you like to offer a prayer?"

"Yes," Ophilia said with a nod, and she pushed open the church's doors, being careful not to tear them from the rusted hinges. Part of the roof had collapsed, so snow fluttered into the interior, and the pews were broken and disorganized. Pieces of the stained glass windows above the altar were missing, and unsurprisingly no flame burned. Ophilia stepped closer to the altar, imagining the scent of the burning embers, and an image of her birth parents kneeling before the altar flashed in her mind.

With her hands clasped in prayer, Ophilia closed her eyes and knelt upon the cold, frozen ground, and she sensed Primrose's presence beside her. Despite the cold surrounding her, she could recall the comforting warmth of the Sacred Flame, and she offered a prayer for all the souls that had walked these lands, much as Josef had done all those years ago when he had first found Ophilia. "Mama, Papa…" she whispered, and her eyes grew moist as those words slipped unbidden from her lips.

As she felt Primrose's hand on her shoulder, Ophilia opened her eyes and smiled weakly. "There's still someplace else you wish to visit too, isn't there?" Primrose asked.

A soft sigh slipped from Ophilia's lips; it truly was impossible to hide anything from Primrose's perceptive gaze. "But I am… frightened," she confessed.

Primrose smiled warmly. "I'll be with you."

Together the two women left the small church, and as they stepped outside, Ophilia inhaled a deep breath, tasting the cold air. Again she took the lead as Primrose followed, and their steps left footprints in the snow. How long since anyone had last disturbed this snow? Ophilia wondered idly.

Although she couldn't say that she fully recognized the scenery of her birth village, now so ruined and covered by sheets of pure, unsoiled snow, her feet seemed to move by instinct, following a path that had once appeared so much larger to a child's eyes. Soon she and Primrose came to a ruined house that looked no different from the others, but her heart knew the truth.

Primrose again broke the fragile silence. "Was this your home?"

Ophilia nodded, touching the door. "It has been fifteen years, and I still remember." She pushed open the door, and she and Primrose stepped inside.

On this journey to her childhood village of Winterhaven, Ophilia wasn't searching for anything in particular, and she didn't expect to find any long-lost mementos of her parents. She stepped forward, her boots leaving prints in the dust that covered the floor. The house was smaller than she remembered and there was little remaining inside, but nostalgia still seized her heart; this was where she had been born and where she had last seen her birth parents. The ghosts of memories surrounded her like the cold air, and for a moment she couldn't even move.

"I've returned," she whispered, and she began to move through the house, examining each and every small thing her eyes fell upon. Primrose kept close beside her, a quiet yet comforting presence. She could imagine herself as a child again, looking up at parents, her mother's warm smiles and her father's kind eyes. The memories were dreamlike, and perhaps many of them were simply that - mere dreams. She had been naught but a child, and dreams connected the few memories she still had of her birth parents.

As Ophilia and Primrose explored the house, Ophilia let her fingers linger on the dusty fixtures. The house was fairly small, as her parents had not been particularly wealthy, but they had done well enough for themselves, and as a child Ophilia had never lacked for necessities. A feeling of cozy, tender warmth was what most filled her childhood memories, and a warmth that Lianna and their father had helped return to her.

But not all her childhood memories were pleasant, she knew. As she came to a familiar closet, she froze. The door was ajar, and her heart began to race. Something so simple yet so terrifying, where her parents had stored spare sheets but where she had last seen her mother before being trapped in darkness. Often she had nightmares that she was still trapped in the darkness, that Lianna and Josef were simply figments of her imagination. She inhaled a deep breath, trying to calm herself, and she opened that closet door.

It was what she expected: a simple closet full of sheets and barely large enough for a small child, let alone an adult. She knelt and touched the sheets, and a familiar scent filled her nostrils. It was so much smaller than she remembered; even as a child, how had she managed to remain hidden and silent for so long? If she hadn't risked everything by leaving, would anyone have found her? What if her parents had returned after she left and found no traces of their daughter?

As if bidden by an external force, Ophilia began to frantically search through the sheets, but found nothing. What was she searching for? Some sign that her parents had returned for her? Her childhood innocence and naïveté? A kind of desperation she couldn't name filled her as she tore through the sheets, but again and again, she found nothing.

She touched her face, and she was surprised to find tears. When had she started to cry? When was the last time she had shed tears for her birth parents? She couldn't remember. The more she had awoken with her sister Lianna beside her, the less often she found herself crying from nightmares. Lianna and their father Josef had saved her. But now Josef was gone, before she could ever call him her father, and she had nearly lost Lianna too… More tears fell from her eyes, and she couldn't stop them. Primrose knelt beside her, pulling her into a tight embrace, and Ophilia sobbed into her shoulder.

Eventually Ophilia calmed, and she rested her head in Primrose's lap as Primrose stroked her hair to soothe her. "Thank you, Primrose," she said softly. "I truly do not believe I would have had the courage to make this journey without you."

Primrose let out a chuckle. "You've given me so much comfort on our travels together, so now it's my turn to repay the favor."

"'Faith shall be your shield,'" Ophilia whispered, remembering the words Primrose had called a gift from her own father. "His Excell- our father once told Lianna and me that as long as we hold someone in our memory, they will never truly be gone, even once they've passed on." She shut her eyes and let out a deep sigh. "I believe… I was afraid of forgetting my birth parents. I needed to return here, to remind myself that they truly did exist. Silly, isn't it? That I would need to be reminded of something so simple…"

"Not at all," Primrose replied, touching Ophilia's cheek, her hand warm and soft. "Memories fade with time, so it's even more important to hold onto the ones most dear to us and keep them close to our hearts."

Ophilia smiled, and she and Primrose got to their feet. Glancing out a nearby window, she said, "It's gotten rather late."

"Yes, I suppose we should turn in for the night." Primrose put her hand on her hip. "Should we stay here, or…?"

Ophilia shook her head. "It would be better if we stayed somewhere else. There is an inn near the entrance to the village."

"I understand. There are too many memories here, and even if this village is abandoned, it would still be rude to impose."

Despite herself, Ophilia couldn't help but chuckle. She and Primrose left her childhood home, and outside the snow had stopped and the clouds parted, revealing a starry sky, and Ophilia's heart skipped a beat. Had the stars always been so beautiful? She took a hesitant step forward, her eyes fixated on the night sky above. The stars were a constant, the same stars she had shared with her parents as a child, and then with Lianna and their father Josef. Of that much Ophilia could at least be certain.

She clasped her hands together in prayer. "May the Sacred Flame guide us always."

With that quiet prayer, Ophilia and Primrose made their way to the inn to rest for the night. In the morning they would visit the cemetery to pay their respects and then would begin their return to Flamesgrace, where Lianna waited.


End file.
